Traditions
by Michika
Summary: One-shot about the relationship Bulma and Vegeta have around the time prior to birth of Trunks.


April 5, 2011 – August 28, 2011

I have an unfortunate habit of nearly finishing many pieces, letting them lapse and lounge on my computer, then I forget about them. This is one o those things that was only a few paragraphs and tweaks away from being done enough. Also I'm trying to work on my writing more diligently and frequently. Yes, that does include finishing things I've started! Please feel free to prod me, I tend to write and then forget to post.

Traditions

He was engaging in the behavior she liked to call "creeping", and he defended as "having an awareness of ones surroundings". This time however he was utilizing all his acquired skills to slink amongst the steel beam rafters of a Capsule Corporation hanger. He came to a stealthy crouch above a beat up metal workbench covered with a scattering of wire bits and electronic components. His focus was firmly set on the woman hunched over a bench, hair pulled on top of her head in a sloppy top knot. His sensitive nose picked up the smell of molten metal and melted plastic, it overshadowed the other smells in the large cavernous building.

It was one of those past times that should never have evolved this far. Originally he'd been using the woman below to refine his ki differentiating abilities. It'd been profitable for him to stretch his skills by keeping a permanent mental lock on her. He'd hoped that it would allow him to pinpoint and recognize other distinct low and miniscule level kis. However, so far he'd been unable to extend the skill beyond her. So there he was peering down, unwilling to admit that he was no longer training, but instead admiring the way the lights created a white halo on the crown of her head of glossy blue hair.

He could see the familiar wiggle of her bottom moving side to side on her stool -she was starting to ache. The view from above was exceptional, in his un-admitted opinion, as the woman leaned back in her seat. She pressed her hands into her lower back, pulling back her shoulders and pushing up her breasts. He leaned a little further out from his perch to enjoy the view. The internal debate rose whether or not to stay as her heard approaching footsteps.

"Oh Bulma! Dear, I brought you something to munch on." The woman's bouncy blond mother deposited a plate piled high with hot grilled cheese sandwiches. Not just one, but two tall glasses stood next to the food. "Now eat up!" She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek and a quick squeeze of a hug then sauntered out of the hanger.

The rich smell of melted cheese on buttered toast made both occupants salivate. After a thoughtful bite into the gooey and crunchy treat the woman stood and grabbed two more halves from the plate. "You can have the rest, it's why she brought so many." He knew she was addressing him using her own uncanny skill to recognize his presence nearby. She then leaned backwards into the workbench; the edge was the perfect height to use to dig into the tense and aching muscles of her lower back. He watched her while inhaling the sandwiches with the utmost refinement. She was wiggling back and forth on the table edge while slowly snatching tiny bites from her remaining sandwich halves. Her belly had a distinct bump to it, and it was so much larger when viewed from the side then from above. When he'd been taking in her sight from above the angle of his position and size of her well-shaped breasts obstructed her belly.

There was a quiet casualness in the way they finished their meal in silence. When they'd finished Bulma turned to him and immediately launched into vibrant and lively one-sided conversation about her most recent achievements in rebuilding and re-engineering some of the Capsule ship's systems. She piled on the questions about his most recent space voyage. He'd finally reached his goal while out there, he surpassed his own barrier and came into his own birthright. Her father's ship however hadn't fared as well, its systems were in various stages of repair now. She was rushing at his request to repair and improve upon the latest version. He wanted to return to space for a second time, if only to continue his training undistracted.

They sat for a moment in companionable silence. She closed her eyes and rubbed the valley of her chest up and down. Heartburn was her one and only complaint with this pregnancy. So far it'd been easy, her appetite had grown exponentially, but everything had seemed otherwise normal, given the father's origins and all. He was still the same as he'd always been, the madness was a little less prevalent, and the bloodlust had diminished, replaced with determination, and perhaps a hint of hesitation. Always he was just as dark, just as demanding, but only half as much of a secret to her.

They still fought, engaging each other in yelling arguments. There were also periods of silence, which most frequently came after the sex, which occurred after the fighting. It was the pattern they'd settled into long before her current condition had come about. Their time together had been punctuated by his trips into space; it all ultimately revolved around his training. At most only a few things had changed along with her waistline; favorite sex positions, and the length of time she spent both eating and sleeping.

There they stood, her rubbing her chest to distract herself from her heartburn, and him standing quietly off to the side. Maybe that was what she liked about him, his indifference. His ability to not come rushing to her side as if to insinuate she was incapable of her own care. She would also never deny that the sex was anything short of spectacular. He'd ruined her for life; she was sure, as nothing seemed to be comparable to his touch. He was her perfect match in many things; it was all ultimately a battle of wits and a struggle for dominance. They thrived on it, and so in a subconscious way to retain it, neither would openly acknowledge that anything had changed, or was going to change between them.

She'd been dutifully purchasing maternity clothes, and had begun the process of choosing a bedroom and furniture for the child. At no point though did she ever acknowledge it as any more then a process, it was almost as if the reality had never actually sunk in. Her mother dotted upon her, thrilled at the news. She spoke with Chi Chi over her own experience, but still she couldn't fully comprehend the changes that would come about to the household, to her, to her unspoken arrangement with her alien bedmate. Bulma was still possibly a bit shocked.

He'd heard her mother chattering at her about "finishing what needed to be done, and completing the list". The older woman was very enthused with the pregnancy and could rarely converse on any other subject for longer then a few moments.

He really did not have any feelings towards the child. He regarded it as an abstract piece of knowledge, and a current inconvenience. He'd assumed that the child would arrive and things would continue on as is. To him it was simple, as simple as the terms of their arguments, and regular sexual engagements. Vegeta was still processing his transition to a free man. His first real step acknowledging this state of being was the sexual relationship he'd forged with Bulma. He'd never before been allowed bedmates, much less pretty little ones who expressed a feverent interest in being a willing participant. They'd started with simple one-off casual sex and had worked their way to nightly romps. When she'd become pregnant, it'd progressed further again. Now he'd allow her to seek him out to initiate their encounters, and he seemed slightly more patient with her.

They were still standing in her lab, the empty plate and glasses on the table. They'd both drifted off during the silence they'd shared. Bulma had gotten off her stool now and stood with her forearms on the table top, bent over. The position helped relieve some of her backache from carrying such a heavy child. 'Hmp, saiyans and their dense musculature.' She whined mentally.

"Will it be much longer?" She murmured; her voice muffled from her position. He knew what she was asking. She'd always been careful about this topic around him, guarded. When the subject had first come up she'd sat with him in their post-coital silence for a few minutes before whispering it into the air. He'd said nothing, but had stayed until she felt she'd understood his silent answer. That was how it was, he'd acknowledged it as having happened, but never claimed any sort of responsibility, or voiced any opinions of any kind.

"Awhile" he replied curtly. She nodded from her bent over position; it was a question she'd been trying to propose to him for some time now. Chi Chi had told her that when she'd been pregnant they'd been able to pin point distinct changes in her ki to signify the near onset of labor among other things. Even if Bulma was nearly oblivious as to the changes her baby would bring to her life, she certainly was not oblivious to the changes in her body. They'd had exactly three conversations on subject until this point; when he'd found out, when she'd asked him about what to expect, and when he'd told her the child was a son.

Vegeta had turned away from her, now, finding something interesting in a project on a side bench. He couldn't miss her presence if he'd wanted to as she came to stand up beside him. "It's a tree." She answered. He hadn't actually been curious about the pot under a glass bell, or the lights directed down on it from above. The seedling was reasonably well sized; it had a robust smattering of new leaves planted on top of a stout vibrant green stem. "I've been growing it since I found out. Well actually first I had to create it, because its brand-new you know, a hybrid, and it needs a bit more time", she patted her belly with a smirk on her lips. "It's tradition to plant a tree for a child in my family". She kept her eyes fixed on the seedling and the silence fell back between. "I know we don't talk about it, and I'm fine with it, but if you leave, you're always welcome back" He was gone when she looked away from the tree. He'd avoided her for the rest of the day and the evening. She knew he was processing her words. He still took everything with a hint of skepticism, and a heaping spoonful of paranoia.

They didn't speak about it again for the next month, and after a few spooked days away, things had settled back into their routine. He trained; she created, fixed, and grew his child, it was simple.

One morning in late July Mrs. Brief announced to the breakfast table that 'the list' was done. At the end of breakfast she patted Bulma's belly and told her daughter to eat up as it could be any day now. Most of August passed in a similar fashion, with mounting daily excitement over a count down. On the day that Bunny celebrated as the number one in the countdown he found Bulma hiding in his GR after he'd returned from lunch.

She slowly got to her feet and gathered her books. He only stood there watching her; he was becoming easier for her to read now. His silence was multi-faced. He was curious about what was going on, why she'd done something outside of their respected norms, but to ask about would to be to lower his aloof exterior and show interest. So she gave him the boost he needed to get caught up with the situation.

"Today is my due date, and everyone who knows about this," she gestured to her abdomen, "has some sort of impression that I'm not resting enough to prepare." She sighed, "Not only will they not stop talking about it, but they won't leave me alone. I can't get a minute of peace! That and my doctor is concerned that I'm under too much stress and that it could impact my labour. So I was waiting here…" she started.

"Hiding." He interjected.

"Fine, hiding! I was here waiting for you, so maybe you could tell me if it'll at least be soon?" She put on her best wheedling face and went to work. "Not only am I hot, and uncomfortable, but I've been pretty much banned from lifting a finger. Which as you know means no upgrades, or in the least repairs. I feel fine, and honestly I'd rather be working. See! See!" She flipped open one of her books and held it out for him to see. He glanced at her scribbles, eyeing them with a hint of casual interest.

She was bribing him, and he knew it. "Plus all the stuff that is supposed to have started happening hasn't." She raised her fingers and opened her mouth to start counting them off. He indulged in the use of his speed to stop the next phrase from coming out. The less he knew the happier he was, and he was firmly assured in that belief. "So?" She caught his gaze and waiting for him to answer her. He shook his head indicating that everything was still the same. She'd asked him this very same question once a week since her mother had started counting down.

His mind could only process one version of Bulma, the one he been getting his hands on nightly, and more for over a year now. Deep down he had an internal need to protect this image of her. He was careful about listening to all the babytalk; he treated it like propaganda and closed his ears when it was happening in his vicinity. He was purposefully remaining naïve about the small intricate and distinctively womanly details about the process of producing him an heir. The pristine image he held in his head revolved around his ability to connect with her through their bodies. To listen to the party rhetoric would be to poison his own mind against himself.

Bulma stared at his outstretched glove. "Sorry, I forget about the details, especially when you're not immersed in it daily. Later then? After you're done? I'll even come to you, I'll wait up." She leaves him and sneaks into her lab to check on her tree. It's growing well, but it's too late in the season now to plant, as well there was no definitive time frame on her child's appearance. It will be fine in the lab over the winter, and she could plant it next summer, after the android's defeat in May.

It's September now, and the tentative agreement is to let things progress as they are. The child is still growing and Bulma insists she feels fine. Data retrieved from the scouter indicates that saiyan children appear when they're ready not on any set time scale as humans do. After a few Vegeta-worthy temper tantrums about personal space and needing to stay busy things have settled down some. She has finally managed to get back to light work, her family (mother) is still flitting around incessantly, but the instance that 'this is the day' had died to silence. The ship was finished and stored away in a capsule. She left it on his bedside table one morning after she'd woken up. Everything is in limbo around Capsule Corporation.

By October there is a chill in the air. Some mornings arrive with the white glaze of frost. The tabloids catch Bulma; the news story that she'd thought she'd brushed off 4 months ago is now running wild. There is a mixed reception to her pregnancy and marital status. She remains silent and dignified on the subject when in public. He's noticed she is a little less active now, and she complains more in her own silent way about the size of the child inside her.

He's already made his mind up to leave and return to space. He feels uncomfortable with the way they entwine him into their lives. This planet is seeping into him more and more each day. He even thought that the rate of permeation was increasing since he'd reached his goal and returned. He needed the blackness and silence of space – it'd purged his system of this planet before his ascent, and he was faithful in its power to do so again. After careful plotting it's decided; he will wait until just before the child is born before leaving, and would return to fight the Androids unless a better challenge presented itself.

In contradiction to himself the Prince still continues to associate himself with the Scientist. Nightly he appears in her bed, having slept more in it then his own since the summer ended. The sex is still good, it keeps him returning like a faithful parishioner, and subdues her raging hormones which all seem to be developing a fixation on sex.

October comes to animated close. She sits at her vanity table undressing as he watches her. Her voice is twittering about how adorable all the kids where this Halloween. The Prince ignores her chatter as he himself undresses to shower. They've settled into a new routine, but can't acknowledge it for its fragility. Bulma enjoys this novel dimension, but fears stating the obvious will only cause change. As she stands, she is forced to bend over and grasp the wall. She's been experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions on an off now for a couple of weeks. Vegeta confirms that there has been no significant change in her ki. He does however keep to himself that he's started to see a shift in the shape and placement of her protruding belly.

Winter descended in November and as the temperature dropped Bulma's sex drive reached to new heights. Vegeta was supposed to be preparing for his departure back into space. He was instead putting it off in favour of engaging her drive. It was always hot and fervent now; it was near impossible to turn her away. A willing, wanting, demanding woman eager for his indulgence was still a novelty to him. His immoderation of his new fixation began to run into his training time. All for which he'd repeatedly found convenient forgiveness for the missed hours in the long times between repairs she'd been effectuating.

Things changed midway through the month, her weekly prodding drew a different answer for the first time. She pushed for details and with a great insinuation in his tone about his superiority he revealed that there was the most miniscule change in her. Her hands patted at her belly, and she fixed her gaze on his. She'd wanted to ask him about any cultural traditions or rituals he'd like the child to receive or be a part of. Instead they just sat aside each other until he stood to leave.

He started finding her sitting and staring off into space while rubbing her stomach. Sometimes she'd be talking, or humming. She started touching him as well, casual strokes of his thigh under the dinner table at meals, brushes of her lips on the back of his neck as he sat for her to bandage him up. She was quite engaging now; he still wanted her as often as the opportunity presented itself. He found a great deal of enjoyment in her at this point in time, and occasionally lamented its forthcoming loss. Even going so far as to considering impregnating her again in the future even if there was a chance the sex would be half as satisfying as it was now.

It was a quiet Thursday morning in the kitchen. Breakfast was served piping hot, the smell of it heavy in the air. Mr. and Mrs. Brief were bundling up to head to a meeting in a small neighbouring town. Bulma's mother passed out a hug and kiss to her daughter and reminded her to just relax and enjoy her last days of quiet. The two expectant parents ate without speaking; they'd both felt the steady rise in the sexual atmosphere. They'd jumped each other the moment the last morsel had vanished. They fooled around until lunch, breaking to eat and briefly rest. She was surprised he'd abandoned his training this long for her, well the sex she corrected. Lunch was a quick affair of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

A mid-afternoon phone call interrupted them; the parents were staying in the city for dinner. They found their own illogical meal of ice cream, cookies, and cake while they contemplated what new heights they could take themselves to in the kitchen. There was another call interrupting what had promised to be a rather exceptional experience. Her displeasure at a ruined moment was mirrored in her voice and reflected in his scowl. It was the parents again, it'd apparently been steadily snowing all day, and they were uncomfortable driving in the winter conditions – they would be staying overnight. She sighed from her position on her back, they had another easy 12 hours to themselves. It was actually welcome, as they'd been unable to meet up for more then quick encounters the prior two days.

Satiated and lulled in a relaxed and fulfilled state she lay on her side, she was finally catching her breath again after a very ardent performance. The clock blinked at her 3:33 AM. Her last thoughts as she drifted off was the appreciation of his closeness this night, and the question as to if this was their last night before the baby arrived.

They enjoyed two more uninterrupted days of private encounters. Her parents had opted to spend a few days away in the neighbouring town her mother found so quaint. Vegeta knew it was over when he'd sent her tumbling into an exceptional orgasm, her ki singing clear and high underscored with the steady thrum of his child. When she'd finally come down the two kis were further out of synch. By the time she'd fallen asleep she was giving off the pattern he'd come to interpret as absolute satisfaction, it made his ego swell. The divergence he felt from the child had a near anticipatory quality to it. Her son, and his heir didn't arrive for two more days.

On the day of the birth Bulma had finally reached a point in her process that they'd led her away to her room. She'd made him promise to wait to see his son before he left into space and so he was slouched in chair in his old room waiting for his arrival. He'd chosen the chair and not the bed to recline on as the bed shared the same wall as Bulma's. He didn't want to hear the details of the next room; he could already feel the fluctuations coming from the pains of labor.

It's an affirming moment when the two kis separate. He is now leaning up against the wall, the bed moved while he sits legs folded in front of him, and his face resting in an upraised palm. If he still had a tail it would probably be twitching happily as he recognizes the healthy strum of both kis. True to his word he waited quietly in the adjoining room while individuals hovered around the woman and her child. As the hours ticked by she was eventually left alone, the child sleeping nearby.

Both mother and child woke to the rumbling of thrusters pushing the re-completed ship into space. She sighed laying back down from where she'd risen. The child was already quieting. She stretches out, her hand rubbing through a warm spot in the fresh sheets. In the quiet that has resettled over the compound the new mother exhales and pulls a cooling pillow closer into her embrace.

End.


End file.
